I Can't Tell Him Why

Part 1

Thirteen seems young to believe that you've failed at everything you tried to do.

But that's the way it is.

My parents have their hands full with Miranda, taking her to and from the hospital, doing all they can to make sure the poor girl can still breathe. I should have tried harder to be the perfect son, someone to make them proud, the helpful older brother. Sometimes I made them proud, but too often I just made them crazy. I tried to make Miranda laugh, but it only made her fight that much harder to breathe, to stay alive.

Miranda's the real Gryffindor, not me. I don't belong here.

Professor Damos said she saw death and despair in my future. She says that every year about some student or other. Most of them don't have sisters at home who might not live to see the Hogwarts letter.

If death and despair must come, let it be my own. Not hers. I've lived longer, and made more of a mess of my life.

I win ten points for my House, and get fifteen taken away. I do well on exams, and on homework, but half of the teachers here look at me like something that crawled into their morning porridge unexpectedly, because I have this habit of asking too many questions that they can't, or won't answer. I don't fail classes, but overall, as a student, I'm far from a success.

But that's all normal enough. I might be a failure as a student, as a brother, as a son. Most kids feel that way sometimes, or so I hear. It's tough, but no big deal.

It's worse than that, though. I am a failure and a disgrace as a friend. I know I am. For the last two years, I've managed to hide from the truth, the truth that is whispered behind my back in the classrooms, the truth that I deny to my mother and father when they try to force me to admit it. I deny to protect his innocence, for I have none of my own left.

If he knew...if he knew that my friendship is not the pure and shining thing I tried so hard to believe it was and still pretend it is...he would hate me, and rightfully so. I hate myself. Not for being attracted to other guys generally, you understand, but for being attracted to him, to the best friend I swore to myself that I would love and cherish as my own brother. To Remus, who struggles to be human and unafraid of human contact the way my baby sister struggles to breathe.

I've twisted that, tainted it. I want him. Physically. He may be a werewolf, but I am the predator here, I who have taken his devotion to the first real friend he's known since he was a small child and twisted it with my own lust. Oh, I haven't acted on my feelings. But I need to make sure that I never will.

And there is only one way to be sure of that. This, above all else, is what makes my mind up for me.

It was a simple enough matter to swipe a potion for dreamless sleep from the infirmary, last time I was working there. And nowhere near as difficult as it should have been to put together an appropriately deadly poison from a few stolen things in the Potions lab. Goyle would be furious when he found out, but what could he do? Give my corpse detention? Even through my despair, I allow myself a bitter laugh at that last thought.

And the timing is right. Day after a full moon, Hogsmeade weekend. James and Peter will be gone, Remus will be exhausted from the transformations and probably asleep, and nobody will have trouble believing that I stayed behind to keep an eye on him.

I sit down to scribble a short note, figuring that I owe them that much. "Well, guys, I guess Dame Damos was right about me. Death and despair, not necessarily in that order. Feel free to divide my things amongst yourselves, and don't get any stupid ideas about following me. There were no death omens waiting for you, but trust me, you're better off without me. That's all you need to know. Take care of each other. -Sirius"

Now to get on with things. If I just mix the poison and the potion in one vial, I can down it all at once, and there won't be a chance for me to lose my --

Oh shit, it just exploded! Guess I shouldn't have mixed them, after all. I hear myself string together a mindless combination of obscenity. This has certainly interfered with my plans.

"Sirius, NO!"

I hear Remus, his voice an odd mixture of whisper and scream. The part of me that hasn't gone completely numb inside is surprised that he is this alert and this strong. Strong enough to grab me by the arms and push me down onto my bed. Strong enough to refuse to let go as I struggle to get away from him. His face is a mixture of concern and horror, lips frozen in a silent, one-word question.

I can't answer it. I can't tell him why. I just can't.

---

Part 2

At least they're nice enough to let me sleep, and I get to sleep in my own bed instead of the infirmary. It's too bad I have to miss Hogsmeade, again, but I know I won't be in any shape to go this soon after the full moon. Peter promised to bring me back some candy from Honeydukes, so I suppose I can't complain too much. It's just part of life, for me. The moon manages to be full at the most inconvenient times, causing me to temporarily lose my mind. I suppose it could be worse - at least I know that the rest of the month I'm sane. And my roommates are used to all this by now, and have always been good about letting me get my rest.

The hell....?

Shattering glass.

Sirius, stringing together more bad words in two minutes than I've heard from him in two years - they aren't his style - he tends to prefer long and archaic words that nobody's ever heard of until he uses them to describe his latest piece of verbal target practice.

I open my eyes, expecting evidence of mischief gone wrong. I see a piece of parchment at an odd angle on his desk. This isn't what I thought, then, it -

No time to think. Out of bed, NOW!

"Sirius, NO!"

Usually I'm weak and fairly useless the morning after a full moon. Somehow, the desperation of this situation has lent me strength. I love him - I'm in love with him, I can't stop thinking about him - and if he - don't even think it, Remus.

I stop thinking. I grab his arms and push him down on his bed, then ignore his attempts to struggle away from me as I pull him into a bear hug. There is no way I'm letting go.

Why, Sirius...?

I can't find the words. I think the look on my face is asking the question for me, but I can't be sure. He doesn't answer, but he does eventually stop struggling to get away. His eyes close, and he lies there, in my arms, completely motionless, as if he is trying to will himself to die.

"Sirius...Sirius, please. Please talk to me. Please tell me what's wrong. Is it Miranda?"

"Some of it. Damos saw death - doctors say she doesn't have much longer - better if they lost me than her." His voice is flat, faraway, not truly his at all.

"We'd be losing you, too, didn't you think of that?" I can't stop the tiniest bit of anger from creeping into my voice. Anger born of desperation, born of love.

"You three'd still have each other." Still no emotion whatsoever in his voice.

"But none of us are you, Sirius. And it wouldn't be the same. We need you. I need you."

"Why?"

Why? I panic. I can't tell him why. I can't tell him I'm in love with him. I'd scare him away from me, and whatever got him to this state would take him away from me forever. I can't risk that. I'm not sure I can ever tell him how I feel, but this would be the worst time possible. So I struggle for words - any words that will keep me talking, keep "I love you so much, I can't stop thinking about you, I need you, if you died I think I'd die to" from coming out of my mouth.

"Sirius...you're the first real friend I ever had. And the best. The most fun I ever had before I met you was reading about some other kids having fun, and then you started talking to me and I got to do things for myself. You keep me sane. You make me laugh when nothing else can - and I know you do that for other people. And you didn't stop being friends with me when you found out, you always give people a chance. Think of all the times you've stuck up for the rest of us, all the sick kids that Madame Pomfrey didn't know what to do with until you had them laughing. You...you make everyone's life better, not worse, Sirius."

One more thing...I can't tell him what I really want to say, but maybe this will be enough to make us both feel better.

"Siri...you're my lifeline, you know that?"

Blue eyes slowly open, staring into mine. Trapped. Afraid. I still don't understand why the hell he tried to do this to himself. I don't think Miranda's the whole story, but he still doesn't look willing to talk. "I'm sorry," he whispers. And if everything else he's said this morning has been flat and dead of emotion, this is not. He looks on the verge of tears, but he doesn't cry. Just starts shaking like a leaf, and when I move to brush his hair out of his eyes, he turns to face me and grabs my hand, holding it as tightly as he held onto his broom during our first flying lesson.

"I have to clean this mess up. I don't want the others to find out."

I nod. "I'll make a deal with you, OK?"

"What?"

"I'll help you clean everything up, and I won't tell the others, or anyone else, IF you promise me that you will NEVER do anything like this EVER again."

"Well, I won't mix poisons with sleeping potions," he says with a weak smile.

"Sirius. You know what I mean." If he thinks he can stare me down, he's wrong.

"Yes, I know, I know. All right. I promise."

"Then it's a deal." I move onto the floor and start picking up the larger pieces of broken glass.

Sirius goes to his desk and tears up the parchment I saw there. "Remus, you - you saved my life. One wizard saving another's life is supposed to somehow bind them together forever, you know that?"

"I know," I whisper.

"I hope you're OK with that. Being stuck with me."

"Siri...you're my best friend. I'm more than just OK with it." Despite everything, I'm suddenly incredibly happy, though I can't tell him why.